Life is pictures. I choose the beautiful ones.I capture nice objects, outfits, faces, just by taking their picture. In the street, other blogs, shop windows, at my journeys, in my place and closet, anything that makes me happy, you can find it in this handmade blog.

1/31/15

i'm your starcrossed lover

''you said you missed it.”He stills, gazing at me. “Sometimes,” he whispers.Oh. “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” I murmur and kiss him lightly on his lips, curling around him like a vine.Images of us together, in the playroom; the Tallis, the table, on the cross, shackled to the bed . . . I love his kinky fuckery—our kinky fuckery. Yes. I can do that stuff. I can do that for him, with him. I can do that for me. My skin tingles as I remember the riding crop.

“I like to play, too,” I murmur, and glancing up, I’m treated to his shy smile.

“You know, I’d really like to test your limits,” he whispers.

“My limits for what?”“Pleasure.”“Oh, I think I’d like that.” My inner goddess drops into a dead faint.“Well, maybe when we get home,” he whispers, leaving that promise hanging between us.I nuzzle him once more. I love him so.

Sir I await your instructions.

Yours always

I’m intrigued. I’ll come find you.

Be ready.

Be ready! My heart starts to pound and I begin to count. Thirty-seven seconds later the door opens. I’m looking down at his bare feet as they pause on the threshold. Hmm. He says nothing. For ages he says nothing. Oh shit. I resist the urge to look up at him and keep my eyes downcast.Finally, he reaches down and pick up his jeans. He stays silent but heads into the walk-in closet while I remain stock-still. Oh my . . . this is it. My heart is thundering, and I relish the rush of adrenaline that spikes through my body. I squirm as my excitement builds. What will he do to me? A few moments later he’s back, wearing the jeans.

“So you want to play?” he murmurs.

“Yes.”

He says nothing, and I risk a quick glance . . . up his jeans, his denim clad thighs, the soft bulge at his fly, the open button at the waist, his happy trail, his navel, his chiseled abdomen, his chest hair, his gray eyes blazing, and his head cocked to one side. He’s arching an eyebrow. Oh shit.

“Yes what?” he whispers.Oh.

“Yes, Sir.”

His eyes soften. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and he caresses my head. “I think we’d better get you upstairs now,” he adds. My insides liquefy, and my belly clenches in that delicious way.

He takes my hand and I follow him through the apartment and up the stairs. Outside the playroom door, he halts and bends and kisses me gently before grasping my hair hard.“You know, you’re topping from the bottom,” he murmurs against my lips.“What?” I don’t understand what he’s talking about.“Don’t worry. I’ll live with it,” he whispers, amused, and he runs his nose along my jaw and gently bites my ear. “Once inside, kneel, like I’ve shown you.”“Yes . . . Sir.”He gazes down at me, eyes shining with love, wonder, and wicked thoughts.

Jeez . . . Life is never going to be boring with him, and I’m in this for the long haul. I love this man: my husband, my lover, father of my child, my sometimes Dominant . . .

The strands of the flogger skim across my swollen belly at an aching, languorous pace.“Have you had enough yet?” he whispers in my ear.“Oh, please.” I beg, pulling on the restraints above my head as I stand blindfolded and tethered to the grid in the playroom.The flogger’s sweet sting bites into my behind.“Please what?”I gasp. “Please, Sir.”He places his hand over my ringing skin and rubs gently.

“There. There. There.” His words are soft. His hand moves south and around, and his fingers slide inside me.I groan.He breathes, and his teeth pull on my earlobe. “You’re so ready.”

His fingers slide in and out of me , hitting that spot, that sweet, sweet spot again. The flogger clatters onto the floor and his hand moves over my belly and up to my breasts. I tense. They are sensitive.

“Hush,” he says, cupping one, and he gently brushes his thumb over my nipple.

“Ah.”

His fingers are gentle and enticing, and pleasure spirals out from my breast, down, down . . . deep down. I tilt my head back, pushing my nipple into his palm, and moan once more.“I like to hear you,” he whispers. His erection is at my hip, the buttons of his fly pressing into my flesh as his fingers continue their relentless assault: in, out, in, out—keeping a rhythm. “Shall I make you come like this?” he asks.

“No.”

His fingers stop moving inside me.“Really? Is it up to you?” His fingers tighten around my nipple.“No . . . No, Sir.”

“That’s better.”“Ah. Please,” I beg.“What do you want?”

“You. Always.”He inhales sharply.

“All of you,” I add,breathless .He eases his fingers out of me, pulls me around to face him, and removes the blindfold. I blink up into darkening gray eyes that burn into mine. His index fingers trace my bottom lip, and he pushes his index and middle fingers into my mouth, letting me taste the salty tang of my arousal.

“Suck,” he whispers. I swirl my tongue around and between his fingers.

Hmm . . . even I taste good on his fingers.His hands skim up my arms to the cuffs above my head, and he unclips them, freeing me. Turning me around so I’m facing the wall, he tugs on my braid, pulling me into his arms. He angles my head to one side and skims his lips up my throat to my ear while holding me flush against him.

“I want in your mouth.” His voice is soft and seductive. My body, ripe and ready, clenches deep inside. The pleasure is sweet and sharp.I moan. Turning to face him, I pull his head down to mine and kiss him hard, my tongue invading his mouth, tasting and savoring him. He groans,places his hands on my behind and tugs me against him, but only my pregnant belly touches him. I bite his jaw and trail kisses down his throat and run my fingers down to his jeans. He tilts his head back, exposing more of his throat to me, and I run my tongue down to his chest and through his chest hair.

“Ah.”

I tug the waistband of his jeans, the buttons popping, and he grasps my shoulders as I sink to my knees in front of him.As I gaze up at him through my lashes, he stares down at me. His eyes are dark, his lips parted, and he inhales deeply when I free him and ensnare him with my mouth. I love doing this to him. Watching him come apart, hearing his breath hitch, and the soft moans he makes deep in his throat. I close my eyes and suck hard, pressing down on him, relishing his taste and his breathless gasp.He grasps my head, stilling me, and I sheath my teeth with my lips and push him deeper into my mouth.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he orders, his voice low.Blazing eyes meet mine and he flexes his hips, filling my mouth to the back of my throat then withdrawing quickly. He pushes into me again and I reach up to grab him. He stops and holds me in place.“Don’t touch or I’ll cuff you again. I just want your mouth,” he growls.Oh my. Like that is it? I put my hands behind my back and gaze up at him innocently with my mouth full.

“Good girl,” he says, smirking down at me, his voice hoarse. He eases back, and holding me gently but firmly, he pushes into me again. “You have such a fuckable mouth.” He closes his eyes and eases into my mouth as I squeeze him between my lips, running my tongue over and around him. I take him deeper and withdraw, again and again and again, the air hissing between his teeth.

“Ah! Stop,” he says, and he pulls out of me, leaving me wanting more. He grasps my shoulders and pulls me to my feet. Grabbing my braid, he kisses me hard, his persistent tongue greedy and giving at once. Suddenly he releases me, and before I know it, he’s lifted me into his arms and moved over to the four-poster. Gently, he lays me down so that my behind is just on the edge of the bed.“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he orders. I do and pull him toward me. He leans down, hands either side of my head, and still standing, very slowly eases himself into me.

Oh, that feels so good. I close my eyes and revel in his slow possession.“Okay?” he asks, his concern evident in his tone.“Oh, God. Yes. Yes. Please.” I tighten my legs around him and push against him. He groans. I clasp his arms, and he flexes his hips slowly at first, in, out.

“Please. Harder—I won’t break.”

He groans and starts to move, really move, pounding into me again and again. Oh, it’s heavenly.“Yes,” I gasp, tightening my hold on him as I start to build . . . He moans, grinding into me with renewed determination . . . and I’m close. Oh, please. Don’t stop.“Come on” he groans through gritted teeth, and I explode around him, my orgasm going on and on and on. I call out his name and he stills, groaning loudly, as he climaxes inside me.